


Teuthidaphilia

by katineto (mistalagan)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bottom Victor Nikiforov, Canon Compliant, Consentacles, Crack, I'm not sorry, M/M, Misunderstandings, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tentacles, Top Katsuki Yuuri, Yuuri Is A Literal Tentacle Monster, Yuuri's Kyushu Heritage Is A Euphemism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-25 14:12:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12037560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistalagan/pseuds/katineto
Summary: Poor Viktor is sexually frustrated. His darling fiancé just doesn't seem interested! Is it a problem with Viktor, or does Yuuri himself have a dark, wriggly secret?(Alternatively: the one where Yuuri is an honest-to-God tentacle monster, and Viktor is surprisingly into that.)





	Teuthidaphilia

Yuuri had been in St. Petersburg for a solid two months. He’d settled in nicely to routine, got along with the Russian skaters in a way that Viktor never had, and was comfortable enough to leave his dishes in the sink instead of washing them immediately. His grasp of spoken Russian was coming along astoundingly fast, and he no longer squinted for long, awkward minutes to decipher the Cyrillic alphabet. 

They slept together in the same bed, did each other’s laundry, and even occasionally bathed together (though, Viktor thought sadly, even their very nice, large bathtub was nothing compared to the Yutopia onsen). Yuuri curled up against him on the couch on lazy evenings, Viktor’s hand petting through his hair, face vulnerable in sleep. Yuuri prodded Viktor to tidy up and sweep every other Sunday (“I have a housecleaner!” Viktor protested; this was apparently even more of a reason to clean up). Yuuri rubbed Viktor’s aching, old-man feet after long days at the rink (“You’re not an old man,” he’d sigh, “You’re just out of practice.”) Yuuri brought life to his apartment, sunlight to the dreary winter days.

In short, Yuuri did nearly everything Viktor could have ever dreamed of. It was what Yuuri _didn_ _’t_ do that was beginning to get to him. 

At first, Viktor just thought he was shy. He’d blushed quite charmingly when Viktor had first shown up in Hasetsu, after all, and continued to do so when (for instance) Chris was a little too handsy.

But as he spent more time with him, Viktor had come to realize Yuuri wasn’t particularly shy at all. See: the aforementioned bathing together. A lifetime of hot springs, locker rooms, and dorms had effectively stripped away any qualms about nudity he may have had. And Viktor had caught him more than one time admiring his trim in-season form in the mirror. (Self-confidence, he reflected gratefully, was extremely sexy in Yuuri).

No, Yuuri barely even blinked when Viktor walked in on him nude, and was only a little more embarrassed when the opposite occurred. Plied with a few drinks, he giggled at the fairly raunchy jokes that came up whenever the skaters and the hockey team had a happy-hour truce. Surprisingly, he even offered a few of his own.

And yet whenever Viktor made them a special dinner, with roses and candles, ensuring Yurio wouldn’t show up to muck everything up, Yuuri would eat it and smile and carefully maneuver himself away from Viktor’s roaming hands. Whenever Viktor lounged in a particular way on their bed, sheets artfully arranged to tease and entice, Yuuri would complain he was hogging the covers. Whenever their lazy kisses on the couch got too heated, Yuuri would squirm away, sprinting to the bathroom and leaving Viktor sad and alone.

What to do?

 

Maybe Yuuri was just traditional. A little more conservative than his seductive whirlwind of dancing at last year’s banquet had made him seem. Maybe he was waiting for marriage.

Well, as far as Viktor was concerned, they were practically already married. They had rings! They were engaged! The marriage itself was just a formality, really. But he needed to respect Yuuri’s wishes, if that was what they were. 

So while he was browsing the news, he clicked on a fluff article about the spread of purity rings from the States to other countries and showed it to Yuuri, who shrugged. “It’s up to them?” he said, focused more on his cellphone game, “I don’t see the point. Even if you think it should be a special thing, if you have a close enough connection with someone, it doesn’t matter if you’re married.”

He reached a new high score and didn’t notice when Viktor clutched at his palpitating heart. A close enough connection? Didn’t they have a close enough connection? Was Viktor not good enough? 

 

“Maybe he’s asexual,” Mila said helpfully.

“Ew,” Yurio said, obviously having overheard their conversation, “I don’t want to hear any more about your _sex life_ , old man.” He had no sex life, Viktor thought mournfully, that was the problem.

Asexual, though. He looked it up.

Okay. Well. It was certainly possible, wasn’t it? Yuuri hadn’t talked about any previous lovers. And if he wasn’t interested in Viktor, maybe it wasn’t because Viktor had failed to be attractive to him. That was actually something of a relief.

He thought about it more, alternating between feeling unfairly annoyed and vaguely guilty every time he jerked off in the shower thinking about Yuuri’s luscious thighs and the soft curve of his cheek. Eventually, he came to the conclusion that Yuuri was perfect, so if he was indeed asexual, that had to be just one more aspect of perfection.

He tried to bring it up. Artfully. Subtly.

“Yuuri,” he’d say, “If there’s anything you want to tell me—anything that makes you uncomfortable, or that you’re embarrassed to talk about, I’m always ready to listen.”

That was somewhat fruitful in that he heard about the creepy worm of an ice dancer who’d started hanging around Yuuri. Brushing up against him. Insisting on walking him home. Staying in the locker rooms until Yuuri decided to change in a stall.

“I wasn’t sure if it was a _Russian_ thing,” he said, “But nobody else acts like that—?”

Viktor took care of it.

That done, he tried again. “If there’s something about your wants and needs that people might think is different, I want you to know that it’s okay with me. I love you for being you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri just looked at him quizzically. “Okay, Vitya,” and skated off.

When a pop star came out as ace, Viktor showed Yuuri that article, too. “Oh, good for her,” he said, and offered up absolutely nothing about himself.

Eventually, Viktor brought it up directly, and immediately cursed himself for the bright red flush on Yuuri’s face. His fork hovered, frozen, over his plate of perfectly steamed broccoli as he hunched his chin into his chest and stared up at Viktor. Viktor stared back, a horrible feeling in his stomach.

“NoI’mnotasexual,” Yuuri said hurriedly. “Um. Sorry,” and he left his dinner half-finished in favor of taking a long shower. Viktor stared after him, forlorn, then cleaned up robotically. He’d screwed up. Too pushy, too needy, too clingy, that was what Viktor was, why couldn’t he have left well enough alone…

He slumped on the couch, petting Makkachin absently. Maybe Yuuri really wasn’t interested. Maybe Viktor was just his ticket to fortune, and he only cared about him as his coach. Maybe Yuuri was already cheating on him, with someone younger, one of the other Russian skaters who made eyes at him daily.

At least Makka would never leave him.

Yuuri slunk out of the bathroom, barely meeting Viktor’s eyes as he sat on the other side of the couch. Makkachin wagged his tail, standing up and turning to fall with a _whumph_ on Yuuri instead of Viktor.

Maybe when Yuuri inevitably left he’d take Makka with him, too.

“Um,” Yuuri said, then clammed up again. “I don’t—um. I’m sorry. I think I should go to bed.”

When Viktor joined him, later, Yuuri was curled up on the far side of the mattress, and Viktor didn’t bother him, choosing instead to lay there sleepless the entire night.

 

Yurio narrowed his eyes at a bleary-eyed Viktor the next day and said, “What’s up with you two? Don’t tell me you did something stupid.” The look on Viktor’s face apparently told him all he needed to know, because he threw up his hands and stalked away with a scowl.

It was a long, unhappy day. Yuuri avoided him as much as he could, what with Viktor being his coach; Viktor, for his part, didn’t press him. They ate lunch separately. In the afternoon, Yakov yelled at Viktor for his lack of focus as he fell and fell and fell. He slumped to the locker room, tired and sore, stopping at the sound of the conversation.

It was Yuuri. And Georgi. _Georgi_ , of all people.

“I know he’s upset,” Yuuri was saying. “And I know I have to tell him. But—but what if he hates me? What if I disgust him? I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Yuuri,” Georgi said, sagely, “True love will weather all storms. If he is truly your soulmate, no earthly affair will tear you apart for long. Also,” he added, practically, “If you need a place to stay _mi casa es su casa_. I, too, know the grief and heartbreak and temporary homelessness that comes from a rejected love.”

Affair. Viktor’s heart sank. But no—he couldn’t believe it. Not of Yuuri.

“Thank you,” Yuuri said glumly.

“Honesty is the best policy,” Georgi went on, clearly proud of his newfound knowledge of English idioms. “You should bite the bullet and stop beating around the bush.”

“ _Thank you_ , Georgi,” Yuuri repeated.

“Anytime,” he said, and Viktor heard shuffling, someone picking up a gym bag, so he quickly backtracked and acted like he’d just gotten to the door.

They walked home in silence, Yuuri giving him the occasional glance out of the corner of his eyes. Viktor kept his straight ahead, heart beating double time. At home, they both picked at their dinners, before setting their forks down and speaking at the same time.

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Viktor said, just as Yuuri did. Yuuri tightened his lips together and looked down, so Viktor kept going. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I love you no matter what. I shouldn’t have pushed.” He fiddled with his napkin nervously.

Yuuri looked up, nose crinkled. “You—no, Vitya, it’s not your fault. It’s me! I haven’t been able to give you what you need.”

“Yuuri, you have given me everything I need—“ but Yuuri waved his hand agitatedly, motioning for Viktor to shut up. He did.

“I know it’s been frustrating for you, and it’s just because I’m too afraid to come out and tell you the truth,” Yuuri continued. “Vitya, I—“ the words stutter in his throat. He swallowed. Viktor’s napkin tore in half.

“I’matentaclemonster.”

Viktor blinked. The English sentence swum around his head; he was certain he’d misunderstood. Yuuri stared at him beseechingly, and as the seconds ticked by he started to shrink back into himself.

 Tentacle. That was the English word for—“Like an octopus?” Viktor asked, dumbly, in a valiant effort to say anything at all.

“Ah,” Yuuri’s eyes narrowed, almost as if he were offended, “No. More like, um. A squid?”

Viktor counted Yuuri’s appendages, and then counted them again. There were definitely four. Well, five, if you counted the other one down between his legs. How many did squid have? He looked down at the remains of his napkin. “A squid,” he replied, faintly.

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Viktor said, “But.”

Yuuri glanced nervously from side to side, and Viktor sprinted ahead. “You don’t look like you have, um, tentacles? Like a squid?”

“Well, no,” Yuuri said, “It’s like—you know mermaids?”

 Mermaids. Yes, Viktor knew mermaids. A couple in person, actually. They made pretty good slalom skiiers. He nodded.

 “When they get too wet,” Yuuri pressed onwards, “They grow tails, right?”

 Helpless, Viktor nodded again.

“So when I, um, get too— _into it_ , I grow, um. Tentacles.”

“Squid tentacles.”

“Not exactly. But yes. Puberty,” he added feelingly, “Was awful.”

“Oh.” That did sound awful. Viktor couldn’t imagine dealing with unfortunately timed tentacles. A boner was hard enough. He placed his shredded napkin carefully on his plate and smoothed his hands against his pants. “Can I see?”

Yuuri blushed, the kind that spread down his neck and to the tips of his ears. “Y-you—want to see?”

“Well,” Viktor decided, “Yes. If that’s okay.”

“You might not like it,” Yuuri warned him. “Mari’s boyfriend screamed.”

“…Does everyone in your family have tentacles?”

Yuuri shook his head. “Mom’s completely human. She basically punted all the, uh, sex questions to Dad.”

“Right.” Well. Viktor took a deep breath, then treated Yuuri to a blinding grin. A real one, showcasing his utter relief that Yuuri wasn’t, in fact, cheating on him. “I promise not to scream.”

Yuuri’s eyes filled with tears, and Viktor started panicking, thinking he’d said the wrong thing again. But Yuuri flung himself over the table and enveloped him in a hug, sobbing into his hair and probably making it all snotty. “I was so scared, Vitya,” he sniffed, “I’m sorry.”

He patted Yuuri on the head, carefully maneuvering him so he was crying on Viktor’s shoulder instead. “It’s okay,” he said, “I’m glad you could tell me about it.”

Eventually, Yuuri unwrapped himself from around Viktor and stood up straight. “Can we—maybe not tonight?” he said. “I just don’t think I’m up to it.”

“Of course not,” Viktor agreed instantly, “How about we have a nice hot bath instead?”

 

It wasn’t the next night, either, or the night after that, but that Friday when they found the time. Viktor made a nice dinner, again, and this time instead of pushing him away Yuuri pulled him into a slow, lingering kiss over a pile of soapy dishes. “Mmph,” Viktor said, and made the executive decision to leave the rest of the dishes for tomorrow.

They stumbled into the bedroom, shooing Makkachin away at the door. The dog harrumphed at them, banished from his customary spot at the foot of the bed, but plodded away sleepily to his own. Yuuri’s legs hit the edge of the bed and Viktor guided him down, one hand at his waist and the other at his shoulder. He lay there, lips red and parted, bracing himself with his hands on the covers.

“This is okay, right?” Viktor checked, and Yuuri smirked, confidence stealing over his features.

“No one in the whole wide world knows my true eros,” he purred, “How about I show you?”

Viktor went immediately and uncomfortably hard, even as Yuuri frowned, blushed, and turned aside, hands covering his face. “I can’t believe I said that,” he mumbled into the bedspread. “That was awful.”

“No, no, my Yuuri,” Viktor comforted him, shuffling onto the bed. “It was very cute. And sexy.”

Yuuri peeked up at him through a crack in his fingers. “Hmph,” he pouted.

“No, really,” Viktor pulled at one of Yuuri’s hands, guiding it carefully downwards until he was palming Viktor’s crotch. “See?”

“Oh.” Yuuri gave it an experimental rub, light pressure, and Viktor couldn’t help but moan as a spark of pleasure shot through him. “ _Oh._ ” He looked almost fascinated, stroking carefully down the front of Viktor’s pants. Viktor melted with a whimper at the feather-light touch.

“ _Yuu_ ri,” he whined, “You’re killing me.”

Yuuri blinked at him innocently. “Sorry,” he said, not so innocently, and took his hand away. He scooted further up the bed, leaving Viktor sprawled forlornly at the foot. Viktor started to scramble up towards him, but Yuuri shook his head. “Stay there,” he ordered, and Viktor stopped, sitting back on his heels, pants tented prominently.

“ _Yuuri_.” He looked at him with big, sad eyes, channeling Makka.

“Stay there, Vitya,” Yuuri said, toying with the hem of his shirt. “Stay there and watch.”

Viktor was very, very good at watching, especially when his Yuuri asked him to. He watched Yuuri pull his shirt off, inch by inch; he watched him fold it (!) and set it on the floor. He watched Yuuri trail his fingers delicately down his defined chest, sneaking them into the waistband of his pants, thumbs tracing his hipbones. He watched him unbuckle his belt with one hand, pulling the zipper down to reveal black, skintight underwear. He watched him shimmy out of his pants, folding them too, and let out a petulant whine, which earned him an amused glare. “Patience, Vitya.”

“I’ve _been_ patient,” he retorted. Yuuri only smirked, now clad only in underwear and socks. He peeled off the socks, one by one, and thankfully didn’t fold them this time, tossing them aside. He hooked his thumbs into his waistband and hesitated, licking his lips.

“If you don’t like it—“

“ _Yuu_ ri,” Viktor interrupted, “I want to see you.”

Yuuri nodded and bit his lip, then carefully eased the scrap of black fabric down, wriggling until it was fully off and he lay there in all his naked glory. His cock was nestled, half-hard, between his legs, which were spread just enough to give Viktor the full view. He propped himself up on the headboard, leaned his head back while keeping eye contact, and took himself in his right hand, squeezing lightly before gently coaxing it to full hardness.

Except it never quite got there.

As his cock stiffened, gray mottled spots began to appear along Yuuri’s sides, blending upward into his pale skin. His legs widened further, then _writhed_ , lengthening, his feet disappearing into pointed, wide clubs. Other, smaller limbs sprouted from his waist, curling around him in a skirt of soft flesh, lifting his hips from the bed. His cock disappeared into the mass of limbs as he let go with his hand.

Viktor watched in fascination. Yuuri was _beautiful_. When the transformation was complete, his lower half was a deep midnight blue, with spots of grey like speckled stars. Tiny suckers on the ends of his two largest limbs were edged in glittering black; the tentacles blended seamlessly into the tops of his thighs. They were in constant motion, turning, curling, seeking out.

“Um. I know, it’s weird, we can stop—“

Viktor reached out a hand. “Can I touch?” he asked reverently.

Yuuri’s eyes went wet with relief, and he nodded. “Careful,” he said. “I control them, but not—completely.”

Viktor touched the nearest tentacle with two fingers. It was slick but not slimy, as soft as it looked. He could feel the muscle playing under his touch as the tentacle moved, tip coiling around to graze along his forearm. He almost giggled at the tickling sensation, but the sound choked in his throat as it encircled his wrist and pulled, unbalancing him slightly. He tugged back fruitlessly. “Strong,” he said.

“Yes,” Yuuri said, watching him from his perch atop the pile of tentacles. “Is that—should I let go?”

Viktor shook his head emphatically. “I’ll let you know,” he said, still caught up in the foreign but not unpleasant sensation of the tentacle on his wrist. It turned his arm over for him, tip tracing along the palm of his hand like it was trying to map him out.

He almost didn’t notice the creep of tentacles snaking up his back, winding between his shirt and his skin.

“You’re still wearing clothes,” Yuuri said, sounding surprised. “Um. I hope you didn’t—“ like them, he would have finished, if the ripping of seams hadn’t interrupted. Tentacles held Viktor’s back in a living cradle, discarding the remains of his shirt as they caressed his shoulders and pulled him down towards Yuuri. “Sorry,” Yuuri said, flushing.

Viktor smiled, staring happily at the pink swept along his fiancé’s cheeks. “It’s okay,” he said. “But gentle on the pants, yes?”

He was indeed gentle, using the ends of his longest two tentacles to loosen Viktor’s button, unzip and slide the rest of his clothes away. Viktor ended up naked but surrounded by warm blue, suspended by his arms and legs and waist. He hung helplessly, relaxed in Yuuri’s arms upon arms, their faces separated by mere inches. “Wow,” he sighed, and craned his neck to close the distance, coaxing Yuuri’s lips to open to him. They parted breathlessly, welcoming. Though the tentacles held him firm, they remained in constant motion, drifting in undulating waves around his thighs, teasing at the ridges of his body.

He separated from Yuuri with a squeak when a curious sucker found its way to his nipple. The sensation drove straight to his groin, as yet untouched. He whimpered, hips twitching forward. Yuuri smirked, another tentacle finding its way to Viktor’s other nipple, where it joined its peer in tormenting him. They clung and teased almost to the point of pain, and he trembled, gasping. “ _Yuu_ ri,” he whined, “Please.”

“Please what, Vitya? Use your words.”

“ _Yuuri_.” His eyes fluttered shut. “Please fuck me. I’ve been patient.” He’d waited so long.

Yuuri hummed. “I guess you have, haven’t you?” He shifted, and the tentacles shifted with him.

Viktor found himself maneuvered into position, arms held out flanking Yuuri’s head, almost chest to chest with him, ass in the air and knees apart. The tentacles abandoned his nipples in favor of snaking around his thighs, brushing against his balls, poking lightly at the tip of his cock and drawing pathetic noises out of him. Slick muscle trailed over his back and pulled at his buttocks, spreading them for the tentacles’ perusal. One of them, wet and warm like a tongue, dragged tentatively over his rim.

He came with a shocked cry, pulsing warm semen between his and Yuuri’s bodies. They stared at each other in surprise, before Yuuri licked his lips. “Vitya,” he cooed, “I wasn’t even in you yet.” He sounded disappointed.

Viktor slumped against Yuuri’s forehead, mouths barely apart, gasping. “More, Yuuri. Please, please.”

Yuuri petted Viktor’s hair with one hand, then cupped his cheek, slipping his thumb between Viktor’s willing lips. Viktor laved the digit with his tongue, lapping at it with little kitten-licks and whimpering. He was already hardening again, as if he weren’t nearly thirty and refractory periods didn’t exist. “Oh, _Vitya_ ,” Yuuri whispered, in awe.

The thumb was soon replaced by a thin, slick tentacle, tongue-like, that Viktor welcomed eagerly. The taste wasn’t unpleasant—slightly salty, with an odd sort of sweetness layered on top—and the texture was smooth. It explored his mouth, running along his teeth and tongue before making its way down his throat. He choked, struggling to breath through his nose, saliva dripping uncontrolled from his bottom lip. Yuuri watched him with dark, dark eyes as he moaned pitifully.

The tentacle retracted. He panted for air, wriggling his hips hopefully. “Are you okay?” Yuuri asked, hoarsely, sounding just as wrecked as Viktor.

He nodded, craning his neck out to reach the tentacle again. “More,” he croaked.

Yuuri’s thumb returned to his mouth, holding one side, while the tentacle pulled gently at the other. Another limb curled in front of him, teasing at his lips. It looked almost like—

“Yuuri, is that your penis?”

Yuuri blushed, confidence melting from his features. He looked wide-eyed and young. “Um. Yes?”

“ _Wow_. It’s bendy!” He glanced down their chests. As far as he could tell, it sprouted from the same spot it normally would. “And three feet long?”

“G-give or take. It’s, uh, really just the end that’s sensitive…”

“Wow.” He grinned helplessly. It was definitely give rather than take. “You’re _amazing_.” He opened his mouth wide again, and Yuuri hesitantly let him take his cock in. He slid his lips down it as far as he could go, humming contentedly, and was rewarded by a low groan. Yuuri threw his head back, hand slipping from Viktor’s face to clutch at his shoulder. Viktor licked and sucked enthusiastically. As he did so, the tentacles squirmed faster, gripped him more tightly.

“Ahh, ahhh,” Yuuri moaned, tongue flicking out to lick at his lips. “Yessss, so good, so good for me, Vitka…” he devolved into murmurs and moans, tensing.

Viktor pulled back, and the tentacles that gripped his back and head let him. Strings of saliva and pre-cum trailed from his red, open mouth. “ _Yuu_ ri,” he complained, “I want you to fuck me.”

Yuuri lifted his head slowly, and met Viktor’s pleading eyes. Yuuri’s had gone a deep, endless black from lid to lid, no trace of the whites to be seen; Viktor felt like he could fall into them and be lost. When Yuuri smiled, his teeth had traces of sharpness. “Yesss,” he whispered, sibilant. “Mine.”

“Yours,” Viktor agreed, and let himself fall back into Yuuri’s many-armed embrace. The tentacles explored his buttocks and hole with renewed vigor, like a half-dozen tongues all fighting for the chance to taste. Yuuri’s cock slithered back down as Viktor worked his jaw, soothing the slight twinge from holding it open so long.

He was slick and ready from the tentacles’ ministrations when Yuuri _finally_ entered him. Viktor shuddered helplessly at the smooth, continuous stretch, the delicious, aching fullness highlighted by the bare, light whisper of touches on his own cock. “Oh, Yuuri, oh,” he gasped out, “Yes, please.”

Yuuri hummed happily, pulling out on a slow drag and slamming back in, precise and at just the right angle to nail Viktor’s prostate. He practically shrieked, his whole body jerking forward. “Again, again,” he moaned. “Ah hah, Yuuri, I don’t think I’ll keep my promise.”

Yuuri made a questioning noise, more interested in licking the pale column of Viktor’s arched neck than talking.

“I—I’m _definitely_ going to scream, Yuu _ri_ ,” Viktor clarified, the last syllable of Yuuri’s name curdling up into another shout as he nailed Viktor’s prostate once again.

“Mmm,” Yuuri made his way to Viktor’s mouth, lips nearly meeting. His breath brushed against Viktor’s face. “Yesss.”

Viktor found himself lifted, then, denied Yuuri’s cock for a few precious seconds as he cried out in protest. He was manhandled around as Yuuri sat up behind him. Tentacles wound around his arms, pulling his elbows back; they curled tightly around his ankles, binding them to his thighs in an obscene seiza with his knees spread wide. His head fell backwards onto Yuuri’s shoulder as a single tentacle invaded his mouth again. He sucked at it, making little whimpering noises that harmonized with Yuuri’s intermittent pants and grunts.

This time, when he was filled, his body weight helped sink him down onto Yuuri’s cock. Instead of thrusting, Yuuri bounced Viktor’s whole body up and down, lifting him effortlessly by his tight, living bonds. Pleasure throbbed through him with every bounce. He shivered with the intensity of it, crying out around the member occupying his mouth.

He felt his orgasm building, blinding, before a tentacle wrapped itself firmly around the base of his cock and he choked out a surprised groan. The one in his mouth extracted itself, stroking back his hair instead. Yuuri nuzzled at his neck, licking and biting marks up towards his chin until his lips were beside Viktor’s ear. “Scream my name, Vitenka,” he ordered, releasing Viktor’s cock and lifting him once more before dragging him down fully until he was utterly filled.

“ _Yuuri!_ ” Viktor obeyed, shaking as his second orgasm ripped through him, leaving him gasping and boneless and oversensitive. Yuuri bit down on his shoulder as he followed, filling Viktor with a hot rush of semen that dripped down his thighs as Yuuri pulled out.

The tentacles retracted slowly, massaging Viktor’s abused muscles as they went. He turned, catching Yuuri’s eyes, warm and brown again. “You okay?” Yuuri slurred, brushing Viktor’s hair out of his face with one careful finger. 

“Yes,” Viktor nodded, using his newly freed hand to cup Yuuri’s cheek and pull him into a kiss. “Very okay,” he purred. 

They shuffled and shifted around until he lay dazedly in Yuuri’s (two) arms, drifting in a sated sea of warmth. “You have a bendy penis,” he giggled, and Yuuri wrinkled his nose cutely.

“Shh, Vitya.”

Viktor grinned, silly, against his lover’s neck before he was struck by a sudden thought. “Can you— _no_ —can you _fuck yourself_?”

Yuuri’s face heated. “Um. Yes, actually.”

“ _Wow_.” Viktor draped himself across Yuuri’s chest, resting his chin on his shoulder. “Can I watch?”

Yuuri’s blush deepened, but he didn’t say no.

**Author's Note:**

> Yuuri: And the stereotypes are awful, Vitya, they think we just do perverted things to innocent schoolgirls!  
> Viktor: Okay, but do you think I’d look good in a sailor outfit?
> 
> Yurio: Why do you look like you lost a fight with a giant squid?  
> Viktor: Mmm, I’d say we both won, actually.  
> Yurio: ??? …Gross!
> 
> \--
> 
> If you found yourself disappointed that Yuuri wasn't, in fact, ace, I'm sorry for letting you down and would like to recommend these fantastic fics instead:
> 
>  
> 
> [five times katsuki yuuri was extremely ace, by @winchilsea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10371639)  
> [(Don't Stop) 'Til You Knock On My Door, by @FullmetalChords](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11416248)  
> [Eros, and Other Love Stories, by @FullmetalChords](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11199141)
> 
>  
> 
> Cheers!
> 
> \--
> 
> say hi to me at [katineto on tumblr](https://katineto.tumblr.com), I'm lonely there


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